


Angels Above While You Sleep

by Smilla



Category: Supernatural
Genre: 2008, Episode: In The Beginning, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-01-19
Updated: 2011-01-19
Packaged: 2017-10-14 21:42:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/153745
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smilla/pseuds/Smilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Mary never forgets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Angels Above While You Sleep

**Author's Note:**

> [Originally posted [here](http://smilla02.livejournal.com/137172.html).]

Mary never forgets.

Not the price of her happiness with John. Not the price of John's life. She never forgets her promise.

All through August she lies awake on her bed, sounds of the house familiar around her and John's sleeping form comforting and intimate. The heat of his body beside her, his features soft under the moonlight.

He's all she has. John, and the sons she bore for him. For herself. Dean already grown up and bright-eyed and Sam, tiny and small. They're beautiful.

But Mary never forgets.

Sometimes, they play like a dream. Those terrible days. Like a nightmare. And if she closes her eyes, she still feels the lips of her father, the tang of blood in his breath mixed with sulfur.

She never tells John – John with his wide eyes and his happily ever after. Sweet, hopeful John. He will take good care of her family.

"You still awake?" John asks and Mary startles, then hugs him hard. John nearly crushes her against his chest.

"Shh, baby," John says. "I'm here. Everything's all right."

 

***

In September, Mary's restless. She cleans the house from attic to basement. Airs the carpets and put translucent curtains over the windows. Salt in the nooks where John won't see it. She carves every symbol she knows - every symbol she remembers – in hidden places. On the underside of the table, under Dean's bed and Sam's crib. She carves them on the walls, too, where humidity has raised the wallpaper in the corners.

Mary doesn't forget.

Not the pain of John's still body in her lap, nor the blood on her father's stomach. She doesn't forget the promise she made to a stranger with her son's name, or the tears in his green eyes.

She had inquired, discreetly. But nobody knew of Dean Van Halen. She thought maybe he was a figment of her imagination until Daniel Elkins came knocking at her door. He'd given her his condolences and then asked to have an old gun back. She'd handed it over with a curse on her lips.

The house is empty without her boys and she walks aimlessly, breathes in deep when she hears the Impala's rumble.

As soon as the door's open Dean comes barreling in as if he hasn't seen her in months. Mary hugs him tight, looks over Dean's head at John. Sam's asleep in his arms. John's loose and sunburned and when they kiss he smells of the cut grass of the park.

"So, is the house clean now?" John asks, a tease in his eyes.

Mary can only nod and hope she's right.

***

In October, Mary's exhausted. She walks her way through the day only half-awake and nearly falls asleep on her plate over dinner.

Memories assault her when she least expects it. Her days hunting with her father. His yellow eyes. Blood everywhere. The earnest hunter who stole a promise from her and then disappeared like a ghost.

She tucks Dean into his bed, waits for him to be half-asleep, before she whispers reassurances in his ear.

She likes to think of an angel protecting her sons. He would be like that other Dean nobody knew about. Fierce and strong and terrible. A true protector.

Dean quiets and falls asleep and Mary leaves him with a sigh.

She's gotten good years with her family. In the bathroom, she frowns at her reflection in the mirror, finds herself old all of a sudden. Ten years went away in the blink of an eye, but she has her family and they are solid and real and will be here even when she's gone.

John, behind her, his worried stare.

"I'm just tired," she says.

John says, "Okay." Kisses her neck, turns her around and kisses her on the mouth and Mary gets lost in John and his tender touch and the strength of his arms.

For a while she thinks she forgets.

***

Mary wakes to Dean's scream. It's long and pained, a terror in it that makes Mary's blood run sluggish and cold.

She freezes on her bed unable to move while John runs to Dean's room. Her gown sticks to a suddenly sweaty back, the rush of heat on her face blurs her sight. She has to walk to Dean's room using the wall for support. John's rocking Dean, sitting on his bed, and he looks at Mary, mouths, "Nightmare."

She takes up John's position, takes up her son, and Dean's body is small, quaking with hiccups. Dean's sweat smells of milk and his hair of apple shampoo. Against her chest Dean's heart is beating as fast as hers.

Mary doesn't say a word, just keeps rocking Dean back and forth until his breath evens out and the tremors go away. Dean turns in her arms, opens his eyes.

"Hey," Mary says. "Bad dream?"

Dean nods inside a yawn. Fixes teary green eyes on hers and Mary chokes back a gasp, masks it in Dean's neck.

"It's all right," she says.

Because Mary hasn't forgotten. Not the pain of losing everything. Not the deal she made a night ten years ago. And not the hunter who came and went like a ghost, left behind a promise on her lips and two lit headlights.

"It's all right," she whispers into Dean's ear. "Don't worry, honey. Nothing bad is going to happen. Angels are watching over us."

***

Mary has a date and she's as ready as she can be.

Behind the window, November has arrived, cold and gray.

\--


End file.
